Above the Law...

Today I had a young customer at work who we've had problems with before, although I've never been the one to deal with him. In fact, I've never actually been there when he's come in with a problem, like the time he yelled at us for using his name. Today, however...

He mumbled something from the fourth lane of the drive up, something I didn't quite hear due to the rain and wind and train going by. I heard the words "money market" and "deposit in to checking." I thought he'd asked me to cash his check against his money market account and deposit it into his checking account. We don't cash checks and then deposit the cash into the account. It breaks policy when we do that. AND, when we DO do it, it's only with checks drawn off of our bank, since we can make sure the funds are available before cashing out the check (although we're asked not to even do that...). But when I looked at the check, it was drawn off another bank. We never cash out checks and deposit them if they're drawn off another bank. It's just bad business, easy fraud, etc.

So I figured I misheard him, and I deposited it into his checking account. He drove away, and a minute or two later, he sashayed into the lobby and flounced up to the counter. "I was just in the drive..."he started to tell Debbie when I walked up, "and he [pointing to me] was supposed to cash this check against my money market and deposit it into my checking account."

So I had heard him correctly.

I stepped in and told him that we don't cash out checks and deposit the cash, so I just deposited it into his account, and since it was drawn off another bank it would be available tomorrow. And then he threw this big hissy fit about how we were the only branch that gave him problems and how the people in Palatine did it for him all the time (totally breaking every rule we have). "This is ridiculous," he must have lisped at me across the counter four times.

My manager just explained to him that we don't do that. And he tried to explain to us how to do our job, how it was okay for us to break policy, and how he was above the law.

Umm....no.

And when he went in to talk to the manager, I counted my till and went home, since it was time for me to go.

I don't know what ended up happening in the end, but this little incident got me thinking. Why do we each think we're above the law? Why do the rules not apply to us? I'm sure there are places where you get special favors from the people there who know you, but do you then expect them? And do you expect them at other places, too?

At my favorite Chinese restaurant Yen Ching we almost always get a free egg roll or fried rice or something when we get take out, and we don't get charged for it because they love Robb and I there.



We're above the law.

At Pizza Hut I used to get free pizza because a friend of mine worked there. I was above the law.

But I don't expect to walk into any Pizza Hut and tell them I know Eric and they should give me free pizza. I know it's a courtesy and a favor because I have a relationship with someone that works there. I am not entitled (there's that word) to anything. I am not REALLY above the law. And I am not a pompus enough ass to think that I am, unlike my swishy "friend" from the bank today.

Are there places where you are above the law?

Out

Poetry...

Look at that title. I know that word turns people off. I'm sure there were people who say that on their subscriptions list and blazed right on past, glad to not get bogged down in choppy lines they think they won't understand in the end.

Well...there's something in me that is drawn to that word. I love poetry in nature and in conversation, in prose and music and fate. And illustration: A long time ago, probably at least five years, I was in Union Station under the streets of Chicago, and I spied this guy:



The first things I noticed were his glasses and the back of his neck...both kind of sexy. And then I saw he was writing. Even sexier. There was a small column of writing along the left margin of the page, and I couldn't describe how badly I wanted to see what it was. Poetry. An insight into what was going on in his mind. Words. Raw and unexplained. And I wanted them.

I still look at this photo and lament the fact that I can't recall what it was the page said--that I never will know what it looked like when it was finished.

The sexiest thing anyone ever did for me was write a poem about me. They read it to me over the phone. I can't recall what it said, but I remember the feeling. And I'll probably never see a copy of it. But that's how poetry works. It's a feeling that settles in your bones, something that stitches you into the fabric of the universe for a moment and makes your head nod in time to the pulsing of the stars. Yes.

Today, this poem was posted on this blog. It resonated with me, so I made a copy. I certainly hope you can give it a moment of your time. Nod with me.

Meditation on Ruin

by Jay Hopler

It's not the lost lover that brings us to ruin, or the barroom brawl,
or the con game gone bad, or the beating
Taken in the alleyway. But the lost car keys,
The broken shoelace,
The overcharge at the gas pump
Which we broach without comment — these are the things that
eat away at life, these constant vibrations
In the web of the unremarkable.

The death of a father — the death of the mother —
The sudden loss shocks the living flesh alive! But the broken
pair of glasses,
The tear in the trousers,
These begin an ache behind the eyes.
And it's this ache to which we will ourselves
Oblivious. We are oblivious. Then, one morning—there's a
crack in the water glass —we wake to find ourselves undone.

-----------------

It's poetry.

Out

The Last Hurrah...

Let us hope that this is winter's last hurrah. We got about six inches of snow on Sunday morning. And...by about three o'clock, it was mostly gone. Now I'm looking at a thin blanket of white on everything and hoping it's gone soon. April is no time for blankets, thin or otherwise.

Snow? Go.

Out

Friday Popcorn...

Thank God it's Friday.

It's that special day of every two weeks, my favorite day of every two weeks. It's payday.

AND.

It's the day the Water Guy visits us. *SQUEEE* *Swoon* He's the best thing about my every-other-work-week. He struts in, 5 gallon jug slung over his shoulder, and takes it to the back, leaving me at the counter hoping no one comes in so I can smile at him and take the order slip. And I do. And he smiles back. I don't know if he's interested (and, oh, I'm taken), but he sure is fun to look at.

***EDIT***
Today he came in, went to the back, came up and set down his empty jug and chatted with me as he filled out our order slip. His shirt, per summer, was unbuttoned down to mid-chest, and he just smiled at me when he kind of caught me looking. *melt* He really brings out the thirteen-years-old girl in me.
***END***

In other news, check out this blog: Five Rules For Life. It's fairly amazing, and while you may not agree with all the people who post, I'm sure you'll find something to inspire you. You may even want to create your own.

Blind Melon's "No Rain" just came on the radio. It's one of my favorite songs...on a CD I've bought 3 times. Maybe 4. I've given my brother 2 copies, one of which he left in Iraq when he was stationed there, and one of which was in his car when it was stolen. And the third one I think maybe I gave him, too. And, now that I think about it, I don't ACTUALLY have a copy of this CD...it's just on my computer. But...good stuff.

So...hooray for Friday Popcorn! It's a good label for those days when you don't have anything significant to say but you don't really want to be silent.

Out

Not Much to Say...

It's true. I don't even have a good story about a bad customer.

It's a dull day, a day wasted spent at work, a day in which I get nothing done but reading blogs and making money. I will go home to the boy, eat some dinner, and go to bed to repeat it all again tomorrow.

I think maybe that's what bothers me so much about this particular day: I know I'm going to have to do the exact same thing tomorrow. And I have a lot of stuff to do, like reply to messages and not get swamped by life...but being at work doesn't allow me the time to do those things, and when I get home I want to spend time with the boy, cooking and hanging out, not sitting in front of the computer anserwing "Who's that?" every ten seconds as I click around.

And...I started this post around 2:00. It is now 4:30, and I am feeling like the day should have been over six hours ago.

Out

Giving In...

I'm all for tips on saving money, on cutting a tiny bit here and there. I'm trying to cut way back on eating out when there's someting at home to eat. But sometimes...

For a few days now, I've been telling myself no. Keep driving, go home, have some chicken nuggets or a sandwich. Don't you dare turn left after you leave work. And all the while I've been telling myself that, I've known that I'm going to lose the argument. Let's be honest, I know myself, and I know I always get what I want in the end.

So, today I finally broke down and hit up McDonald's for a Quarter Pounder and an orange Hi-C drink. Yum.

The funny thing about it is that I don't really even like McDonald's. But sometimes I get it in my head that I want a Quarter Pounder and some Hi-C orange drink. I know I can put it off. I know I can tell myself no for a few days. But in the end...I always give in. And then it's months before I even think about eating McDonald's again without shuddering.

I'm a weakling. I take one look at those puppy dog eyes in my rearview mirror and...end of story.

So, now I'm sitting here feeling like a fatty with a QP in my belly and some Hi-C orange drink by my side. But I'm a happy fatty.

Out

Not As Bad As That Guy...

I'm not one for using other people as your yardstick, as my mother used to say (and, I suppose, still does), but I think I can make an exception in this case.

Yesterday my boss came in to work, and the first thing she told us was that on Sunday they found a body in the Kishwaukee River near Hopkins Park, the park everyone goes to to jog and ride bikes and swim at the public pool. It was a beautiful day here on Sunday, and everyone was out. Apparently a family walking two dogs and several children found a bloated corpse pressed into the weeds on the riverbank that had been exposed "for several weeks," as the radio kept reminding me all day.

At work we were speculating on who it could be. There have been two prominent missing people (prominently missing, not so much prominent people gone missing) around here in the last few years, a guy last seen at Otto's (palm tree tattoo on ankle and sun on back, last seen at the bar on the fabled gay night--read: homo) whom there is a $50,000 reward for finding, and a guy from Wisconsin who checked in to the Best Western after an automobile accident on the interstate and never checked out (last seen on Christmas Day leaving without his belongings).

The autopsy revealed that the cause of his death was drowning. And they identified him as the guy from Wisconsin. Case closed.

There is a legend here about how if you touch the Kish you never leave DeKalb. Case and point.

So, that's the news from my small corner of the world. And from that news, I can tell you that my situation? Not as bad as that guy's.

Out